


Another instance wherein Spencer Smith won't let Brendon be grate :(

by manipulant



Category: Bandom, Blink-182, Panic At The Disco
Genre: Gay Chicken, Gen, Pining, chat fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-31
Updated: 2010-01-31
Packaged: 2017-10-25 01:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/270192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manipulant/pseuds/manipulant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon occasionally gets disgruntled during tours because okay, everyone rips on everyone else, and he's a fucking member of PANIC AT THE FUCKING DISCO, aka Gayest Band To Ever Gay, and his bromance with Spencer Smith is the stuff of which LEGENDS are made, and yet. AND YET.</p><p>NO ONE MAKES FUN OF THEM.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another instance wherein Spencer Smith won't let Brendon be grate :(

so I just wanna talk about an idea I have that I'm probably never going to write, where Brendon occasionally gets disgruntled during tours because okay, everyone rips on everyone else, and he's a fucking member of _PANIC AT THE FUCKING DISCO_ , aka Gayest Band To Ever Gay, and his bromance with Spencer Smith is the stuff of which LEGENDS are made, and yet. AND YET.

NO ONE MAKES FUN OF THEM.

What the fuck?! And so Brendon, y'know, kinda subtly does _everything he can_ to make _someone_ tell him and Spencer to get a room. He noms on Spencer's neck (an idea he got from Pete), he messes with Spencer's hair, he curls around him like ivy whenever they're not onstage, and the thing is, THE THING IS, sometimes it works! It does! Like every tour during the first couple of weeks, the guys in bands they don't know are all haha dude, Brendon, just blow him and get it over with so Spencer can get some fucking WORK done okay, and Brendon's all  >:| SHUT UP YOU GUYS YOU ALL SUCK, YOU SUCK AS HARD AS YOUR MOMS DID LAST NIGHT, YEAH _ALL OF THEM_ , ALL OF THE MOMS, NEVER EVER STOP OKAY.

But then after the first couple of weeks it peters off and nothing Brendon does - NOTHING -

\- INCLUDING THAT TIME HE ACTUALLY FELL ASLEEP IN SPENCER'S LAP STROKING SPENCER'S HAIR -

\- prompts anyone to poke fun at him or Spencer! Seriously, NOT ONE SINGLE COMMENT!

Whatever. So Brendon just, y'know, he can't relent, because then people will know that his gay is just pastede on yey and there's such a thing as honor, right. Plus Spencer is generally pretty cuddly and he doesn't get tired of Brendon as quickly as Ryan or Jon do. He's good for piggyback rides and Guitar Hero and making fun of romantic comedies in the lounge long after Ryan's resorted to using elbows and knees and lighters to get Brendon away, and Jon's hunkered down in his bunk to talk to Cassie or look at pictures of cats or whatever it is he does.

And then there's the whole split and it's not like Spencer really has a choice in the matter, he's the only one left for Brendon to curl up to, which is totally Spencer's own fault, he could've fucked off to the Unwashed Hippie Variety Hour too but he _didn't._ (Brendon loves Spencer.)

Anyway, so they're on tour, _again_ , and it's all fucking weird because there's Ian (who's awesome, they already knew that) and Dallon (who's awesome and they DIDN'T already know that, so it's like EVEN MORE AWESOME because it's unexpected!) and no Ryan or Jon, and blink 182, and a shitload of fans who are more than willing to say hideously hilarious things about the absconded half of their motherfucking band.

Brendon is sort of concerned about how now the hugs from fans aren't so much grasping and inappropriate as they are, um, _maternal_. What.

The important part of this is that Brendon's whole inappropriate touchy-feely Spencer thing is pretty much second nature on tours now, and while yeah, he does sort of amp it up for attention when there's someone obviously looking, it's not outside the norm for him to slouch onto Spencer and doze on his shoulder, or cling to Spencer's arm while they're walking from Point A to Point B, or have an arm around him during interviews.

This one time - it's a Tuesday afternoon or something, and he and Spencer are sacked out on a sofa in some office in the bowels of some radio station, and Brendon's cheek is resting on Spencer's collarbone (he can hear Spencer's heart) and his arm is around Spencer's waist and Spencer's cheek is warm on his hair and Brendon can feel Spencer's breathing, in his lungs and as it leaves him, and he's halfway to dozing - Mark comes into the office to grab a Coke or something, and his footsteps startle Brendon into opening his eyes, and Mark is looking _right at them_. And Brendon, y'know, _obviously_ he has to leer at Mark and make a kissy-face at him.

But Mark just doesn't even _react_ , he just. He looks up at Spencer with this sort of sad, resigned expression on his face, and Brendon feels Spencer's hand tightening on his shoulder, and then Spencer sits up and accidentally jostles Brendon into sitting as well and Mark leaves and Spencer won't look at anybody and goes off in search of lunch a few minutes later and Brendon's left on the sofa wondering what the hell.

And that happens a couple of times over the next week and a half. Travis walks in on Brendon clinging to Spencer in a fit of terror, Spencer with a hand to the back of Brendon's head and the small of his back, keeping him close while Brendon just _shakes_ and tries to convince Spencer - _again_ \- that he (Brendon) is going to fucking ruin them, he doesn't know what the hell he's doing, Spencer should just -

"Sorry," Travis mutters, shooting Spencer a frustrating look of sympathy as he closes the door behind himself. Brendon's annoyed, but preoccupied with how terrible he is with lyrics and shallow and _little ditties_ and oh fuck, fuck, Spence, _shit_.

Then it's Ian. Who should really be better prepared, and it's not even. They're just playing MarioKart, and it's fucking _vicious_ , and Spencer's an evil fucker with Yoshi, and so what if Brendon has to resort to devious tactics and Ian walks in on the two of them and Brendon happens to be straddling Spencer with a hand up his shirt to try to distract him?

It doesn't fucking work, anyway. Ian gives Spencer one of those _looks_ , and Spencer wins the game. Motherfucker.

The final straw is a couple of days later. They're taking cruel cruel advantage of a hapless hotel's continental breakfast, and Brendon is on Spencer's lap making airplane noises and feeding him orange sections.

"Seriously, Bren, my _eyes_ ," Zack grouses. Zack is totally Brendon's favorite.

"Right?" Dallon agrees, fervent behind his Wayfarers, grumbling because of the early start. "Y'know, technically check-out isn't til eleven, you two _do_ have a couple hours to go back up to the room and - _ow_ , jeez!" He cuts himself off, and glares at Ian, who's glaring back. "That freaking hurt!"

" _Freaking_ ," Spencer mutters, mocking, smirking at Dallon. "Oh my heck, Weekes, what has this tour _done_ to you?"

"Made me a lot less comfortable with PDA," Dallon grouses, shooting the two of them a pointed look. He jolts again, and reaches over to punch Ian's shoulder. "Mother _fucker_ , stop kicking me!"

"Yeah, stop - " Brendon looks away from Spencer's mouth, over to Ian, who's giving Spencer one of those fucking _apologetic looks_ again. "Yeah," he frowns, stilling. "Why're you kicking Dallon?"

"Oh, um." Ian blushes a bit, rubs a hand through his hair. "He's a dick?"

" _You're_ a dick," Dallon mutters mutinously, crossing his arms. "Whatever, I'm allowed to say PDA, that's what it _is_."

Brendon blinks, and scowls. "Hey. ... _Hey_. Are you saying you have a problem with stagegay, Dallon? Because I thought we made it pretty _damn_ clear that - "

"Jesus, _no_ ," Dallon huffs, tilting his head back. "I don't have a problem with stagegay or any _other_ kind of gay - " and at this, he looks over the tops of his sunglasses significantly " - but I don't see why it's not free game like anything else anyone does."

"Who says it isn't?" Brendon says, his voice rising. "Who _says_?"

And at this, everyone else at the table looks directly at Spencer. Who immediately starts blushing.

Brendon gapes for a second, his mouth opening and closing like a fish as he slides down into his own chair, off of Spencer's lap. " _You_ told everybody not to say anything?" he gasps, sounding horribly betrayed.

"Oh no, look at my wrist," Ian breathes, glancing down at his bare arm where a wristwatch should be. "We've got to - bus," he says, and immediately he and Dallon and Zack _sprint_ out to the parking lot.

Spencer's looking down at his hands. "Look, it's just. It's not a big deal."

"Big _deal_?" Brendon splutters, starting to make emphatic hand gestures. He almost takes out the styrofoam bowl of Corn Pops he was eating. "You're saying that _you're_ the reason I haven't been able to win any rounds of Gay Chicken since 2003? What, because you thought I'd clutch my pearls and faint? That my delicate sensibilities wouldn't be able to handle shit that doesn't even _matter_?"

Spencer's head jerks up for just a second, enough for Brendon to see the anger and hurt in his eyes, the way his mouth is settling into a hard line. The blush is fading, Brendon notices - actually, Spencer's starting to look kinda pale. "Yeah, sorry," he mutters, standing, pushing his hair out of his eyes. He looks out of the lobby windows, squinting at the outline of the bus, quiet for a second. "I forgot everything's always about you."

And then he's loping off, and Brendon's turned around to scowl at him, watching the long line of Spencer's back. His stomach feels swoopy and gross, like it always does when he's done something really, really stupid.

He just can't figure out what that thing is.

The next week fucking _sucks_ \- Spencer's pissed off at him, but not the usual kind of pissed off where he grumbles things under his breath every time Brendon says something, or points out how every opinion Brendon has is wrong. It's really weird - Spencer's just avoiding him. Spencer barely even _talks_ to him, and it's never occurred to Brendon how much he and Spencer rely on each other for conversation until that's suddenly taken away. He hangs out with everyone still, but there are a couple of times he notices Zack crowding up against Spencer in the lounge, muttering to him, and Spencer has his head against Zack's shoulder and looks fucking exhausted.

Brendon's not really comfortable with how his stomach twists at that. Nor is he comfortable with how annoyed (and kinda hurt) it makes him when he notices Ian all up in Spencer's space a couple of days later, chin hooked on his shoulder and making Spencer laugh, making him smile the smile that Brendon's always privately thought of as his.

"This is the worst lesbian breakup ever," Mark sighs the next day as he gazes as Brendon, at the way Brendon is dejectedly munching on Cheerios, watching old Laverne & Shirley episodes in the lounge.

"Your face," Brendon mutters, not even caring that that doesn't make sense. He shoves another handful of cereal into his mouth and curls up against Mark, wincing and pressing his face into the other guy's shoulder as he hears Spencer's voice outside. He only peeks out when he thinks it might be safe - which is, of course, at the exact right moment to see Spencer pass by with Dallon and Ian in tow, giving him a coldly speculative look, at how he's burrowed into Mark.

"God, get a room," Spencer murmurs as he breezes past. Brendon feels oddly like crying.

"Tours suck," he mumbles, mostly to himself. He feels rather than hears Mark sigh beside him, and closes his eyes.

"He never said anything about your sensibilities," Mark offers, voice low and private. Brendon's eyes fly open again, and he glances over hopefully.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Mark shifts uncomfortably, then tilts forward, til their foreheads are almost touching. "He never said anything about you."

Brendon blinks, and frowns.

Mark sighs and rolls his eyes. "God, Bren, think about it. He asked us not to comment, for _his_ sake." He pokes Brendon's side.

Brendon thinks for a moment, then jumps up. " _Shit_ ," he says, feelingly. "Shit, Mark. You - fuck, I've got to." He runs back to where his bunk is and roots through his stuff, trying to find something that's both cute and clean.

"You're welcome!" Mark calls after him, laughter in his voice, but Brendon's not really concerned - he is a man with a _plan_.

He finds Spence holed up on the blink bus with Tom, watching old Rush videos on Youtube. Brendon inwardly growls at the way Tom has an arm around Spencer, but whatever. He knocks on the door politely. "Can I borrow your Spencer?"

Tom looks over at Spencer, who shrugs and sits up. Tom gets up and heads towards the door, slipping out past Brendon, maybe smacking him on the ass as he passes by. Brendon squeaks and narrows his eyes at Tom's shaking shoulders, then looks back over at Spencer, who's looking kind of amused. "Hey," Brendon says, hopeful.

Spencer tilts his chin. "You wanted something?"

Brendon fidgets in the doorway for about three seconds - then crosses to the sofa and crawls up against him, tugging Spencer into the kind of twining hug that, a week ago, was completely the norm. "When I said shit that didn't matter, I meant the _comments_ , not. I just meant what other people said," he says too quickly, words all trying to leave him at the same time, rushing to get out.

Underneath him, Spencer stills. "Oh."

"Yeah." Brendon pauses, then hugs in tighter, pressing his nose against Spencer's neck and then pressing his lips there, feeling Spence shiver and then shivering in kind. "Spence. You matter _so much_."

"Oh."

"Yeah, 'oh'," Brendon teases lightly, running a hand up to the very nape of Spencer's neck, where the hair is fine and short. This is the very opposite of the way he felt in that hotel, he thinks - shuddery and warm and like his body's too small to hold everything inside.

"I didn't - it was just. I didn't say you couldn't handle it," Spencer stammers, his fingers kneading at Brendon's sides. "The teasing." He clutches at Brendon a little tighter. "I said I couldn't, so they told me they wouldn't say anything."

"Wow, we're retarded," Brendon mutters, smiling as he feels Spencer's laugh against him. "Spencer _Smith_."

"Yeah, pretty much." Spencer props his chin on top of Brendon's head, tucking him in a little. "In my defense, though, it did take you _years_ to notice anything. I figured after the first two I was pretty much in the clear."

"Years," Brendon murmured, pulling away enough to look up at him. "That was really fucking dumb of you."

"Yeah." Spencer pauses, then breaks into his smile, the smile, the one Brendon's pretty sure now is totally _his_. "On the plus side, we're never going to lose another round of Gay Chicken ever again."

Brendon snorts as he tugs Spencer in. "Yeah, thanks you to my Gay Chicken record is perfect anyway. I'm expecting you to maintain it."

  
And they live happily ever after and everyone feels free to make all the GOD YOU GUYS SERIOUSLY WE DO NOT NEED TO SEE THAT, THIS IS WHY GOD INVENTED BUNKS comments they want, from then on.


End file.
